Set in the haibun form.

nighttime solitude
the veiled moon casts no shadows –
the house is silent

I met a woman in a dream last night, walking in a meadow of wildflowers. Her hair seemed to float on a gentle breeze…and she held a leather book to her breast. From time to time she paused to open the book, as though searching for something.
There was an air about her…a fey light of angelic innocence and bolder passions, promising sultry glories.
Intrigued, I invited her to rest and we sat for a while beside a brook, listening to wind and water sing.
What do you seek, I asked and she told me…I have lost pages from my book and fear it will become a journal never completed. She opened the book then and I could see among its vellum pages, living tears and the gap of a life interrupted.
Perhaps they will be returned to you, perhaps you will find them, I said, but in the meantime, pick up you pen, turn to the first blank page and begin again.
Uncertain at first, she put pen to paper and in no time, words began to flow. She smiled then laughed and kissing me on the cheek, she walked away into the wood.
As I watched her go, I thought of my own book and its many gaps.
Perhaps, it is time to follow my own advice…it’s never too late to begin anew.

a bright May morning –
in a periwinkle sky
lost moments are found

© ewrichardson 2009